


for thy love is more delightful than wine

by myhamartia



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale is Smitten and so is Crowley, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Porn with Feelings, They're so achingly in Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-07-08 10:24:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19868050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myhamartia/pseuds/myhamartia
Summary: Crowley’s groan was low and he picked his head up, shaking Aziraphale’s hand out of his hair as he propped his chin on Aziraphale’s chest. “What could be more interesting than… whatever it is you’ve been reading to me?” Crowley had to squint against the lamplight, and Aziraphale shifted slightly to block it from his eyes.Aziraphale smiled at him softly. “You, my dear.” His hands cupped Crowley’s face, his thumbs sweeping along his cheekbones.“Oh."





	for thy love is more delightful than wine

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to my main Em for encouraging the fuck outta me while I wrote this im love u <3 <3 <3  
> and max!!!!! who beta'd it through last minute!!!!! ily b!!!!!

In the days since the end — well, really, the beginning — Aziraphale and Crowley had settled into each other.

It didn’t take long before Crowley’s houseplants filled the upper apartment of Aziraphale’s bookshop, and the demon’s clothes began to stock themselves neatly into Aziraphale’s wardrobe.Crowley had always lived sparsely. Worldly objects — aside from his plants — never took precedence in his life the way it had for Aziraphale.

Aziraphale had many things. There were things he’d collected since the garden, such as small stones and beautiful pressed flowers. He’d finally had a place to store them all when he’d opened his bookshop. The apartment atop the stairs was positively filled to the brim. Crowley said that he might have a bit of a problem. Aziraphale just smiled, not in the least bit concerned.

This is what storage was for, wasn’t it? Clever humans knew just what to do with their abundance of earthly belongings, and Aziraphale was grateful.

Crowley brought his things, and was terribly happy to live around Aziraphale’s knick knacks and lovely little trinkets, as long as the angel himself was with him.

Aziraphale could think of no other place he would rather be.

Sometimes though, his mind would wander back to the old days. Some days were much older than other “old days.” He remembered a terribly long time ago, when he and Crowley had just begun their arrangement. If the two of them worked together to get things done quickly, then they would have more time to themselves. More time to lounge at home, and for Aziraphale to enjoy his crepes, and Crowley to do… whatever it was that he did while on his own.

Aziraphale found quickly that when he had little else to do, and Crowley had quite taken care of both of their duties in one fell swoop, he became terribly bored. He could never take such long rests as Crowley did, sleeping the decades away when he wasn’t needed.

This turned him into quite the busybody. He took up needlework at one point — he was never very good at it, but he had learned a thing, or two. He’d learned to garden without the help of miracles, learned how to cook some simple dishes.He’d lived in a vineyard for a long while, tasting and learning the complexities it took to make wine. He still had several cases of it aging in his basement.

He did all that he could, but he still felt as if there was something else he was meant to be doing. He told Crowley as much.

 _Why didn’t you say so? It can be your turn to deal with all this for a while, eh?_ Crowley had said, a fond smile on his mouth, sprawled out until it felt like his presence very well filled the room.

 _That isn’t what I meant_ , Aziraphale told him, setting his jaw. _I mean, you and I, we cancel each other out and then we go our own way until the next time. It’s underwhelming._

Crowley kissed him that night. Said something to the tune of _Let’s make the most of our time, then. Until the next time._

They did much more than kiss the next time they were together.

There was a shift to them, then. They didn’t talk about it outright. It was one more lie to the stack, one more thing to hide from the Higher-Ups.

Their story from there was winding and Aziraphale couldn’t always keep it straight on a good day. Eventually, the Antichrist came along. The Mix-Up debacle happened, and they ended up indirectly raising the wrong baby together.

And then the apocalypse happened — or, rather, it _didn’t_ happen.

In this moment, in their little bookshop stuck in the middle of London, Crowley was turned into Aziraphale’s body, half asleep as Aziraphale read to him by lamplight in their living room. As long as it had taken them to get to this point, Aziraphale couldn’t thank God enough.

Crowley murmured something under his breath, and that was enough for Aziraphale to shut his book and set it aside. He hummed, tucking his chin to be able to see Crowley.

The demon cracked open an eye to stare at him, his cheek squished against Aziraphale’s shoulder. “You’ve gone monotone.”

Aziraphale’s eyebrows jumped. “Have I?”

Crowley hummed the positive and sat up, stretching and twisting until he came back down into Aziraphale with a relaxed sigh. “You seemed far away.” He pushed Aziraphale back until he was propped up against the arm of the couch, and made himself at home between his thighs. He lied heavily down on him until he could tuck his face into Aziraphale’s collarbone.

“I’m sorry,” Aziraphale apologized softly. He smoothed his hand up and over Crowley’s shoulder until he could run his fingers through the back of his hair, coaxing a happy sound from Crowley. “I was doing some thinking.” He scratched his nails idly near the base of Crowley’s skull, just behind his ear.

Crowley’s groan was low and he picked his head up, shaking Aziraphale’s hand out of his hair as he propped his chin on Aziraphale’s chest. “What could be more riveting than… whatever it is you’ve been reading to me?” Crowley had to squint against the lamplight, and Aziraphale shifted slightly to block it from his eyes.

Aziraphale smiled at him softly. “You, my dear.” His hands cupped Crowley’s face, his thumbs sweeping along his cheekbones.

“ _Oh_ ,” Crowley muttered, crawling up Aziraphale until he was within comfortable kissing distance. Aziraphale’s eyes slid shut as Crowley shifted, with his knees on either side of Aziraphale’s hips, one hand coming up to his jaw, the other steadying him on the back of the couch.

The kiss was tender, lazy in the way half-asleep kisses always were. Aziraphale tugged at the strands of his hair, and Crowley huffed against his mouth. He pressed a kiss to Aziraphale’s cheek and pulled back the slightest bit, pressing their foreheads together. After a handful of seconds, his eyelashes fluttered as he looked at Aziraphale.

Aziraphale raked his fingers through Crowley’s hair, not at all missing how the demon tilted his head to the side and leaned into his touch. The sides of his hair puffed out above his ears. It caught the yellow lamplight like polished copper.

“You’re beautiful.”

“Oh, stop it.” Crowley rolled his eyes in a way that told Aziraphale that the other doubted the sentiment.

Aziraphale frowned at him, puffing up the slightest bit. “I’m not lying. I'm an _angel_ , how dare you imply such a thing—?”

Crowley sent him with a rather stern look. “Well if I didn't believe you before, I definitely don't now.”

“Fine. You win. I… find you alluring.”

“Alluring.”

“Yes. You’re precious to me, my love.” He tilted his chin up in a tiny movement that Crowley was happy to meet with a kiss. Aziraphale kept it soft. Chaste. His fingertips came to Crowley’s cheekbones, touch gentle. Reverence stained his eyes when he looked to his lover again. “I love you.” He held Crowley’s jaw in his hands like it was something to be protected and cherished. Like he was to be worshipped as if he were kin to God Herself.

He watched as Crowley’s eyes slipped shut. He watched his demon take the praise with the ghost of a self-satisfied smile and a sigh.

“ _I love you_ ,” Aziraphale told him again simply because he could.

Crowley trembled against him. His fingers clenched into the front of Aziraphale’s shirt, tangling in the buttons and feeling soft, warm skin through the seams.

“Now, now,” he chided lightly, his face bright. Crowley’s eyes had gone half lidded as he stared down at him. “No sense in ruining a perfectly good shirt.” Just as Aziraphale’s hands dropped to take his, Crowley snapped his fingers. The buttons unworked themselves and fabric fell to the wayside. Aziraphale stifled a laugh. “Has no one ever told you that patience is a virtue?” he asked.

“Nah, don’t think that one ever got around to me.” Crowley dipped in to kiss him again, but it was urgent this time. His skin burned at every point of contact. His kisses were heavy and sharp, rolling into Aziraphale like a dull weight. Bruising and right. Something to remember.

As if Aziraphale were ever able to forget Crowley’s touch.

He pulled Crowley to him in the same moment that he sat up, taking him closer.

Aziraphale knew that they oughtn’t be doing this sort of thing in the middle of their living space where a mess threatened their perfectly good couch, but he couldn’t bring himself to pull away. He couldn’t stand the thought of pushing Crowley away from him, even for a moment. Crowley was so warm on him, so perfect, with such clever fingers working at the clasps of his suspenders and the buttons of his trousers.

Crowley would surely have something to say about it, as well.

Their bedroom was no more than twelve seconds away, and Aziraphale felt that was simply much too long without the brazen touch of his Other.

The sleepiness had gone from Crowley’s eyes, Aziraphale noted as Crowley kissed the corner of his mouth, his cheek. His eyelashes fluttered, though not from the effort to keep them open. It was, rather, from the way Aziraphale tugged his shirt from his trousers, and how he trailed his fingers across heated skin.

He wet his lips. They were so close that he could feel Crowley's puffing breath fanned over his cheek. Crowley arched closer, shifting forward until he was fully pressed against Aziraphale’s front, yet still towering over him. Hands threaded through Aziraphale’s hair held him close to Crowley’s chest.

Aziraphale’s lips dragged over the material of his shirt, his eyes cast heavenward to Crowley’s face. Crowley’s breath was steady, long and deep, but Azirphale could practically feel his Other’s heartbeat hammering against his chest like a wardrum — loud, and commanding of Aziraphale’s attention. He dared not look away.

And he was certainly glad that he hadn’t, because the smile he was Graced with was like nothing earthly words could ever describe. Crowley’s yellow eyes seemed to glow gold, looking down at Aziraphale with such passion and tenderness that Aziraphale could have wept.

Crowley lowered himself back down to press one last kiss to Aziraphale’s mouth. His breath hitched. “Take me, Aziraphale,” he breathed the words like a prayer. “I am yours.”

Aziraphale made a broken sound.

Twelve seconds to make it to the bedroom. Aziraphale miracled them to the bed in three.

They landed in much the same position they were already in, but with Aziraphale nearly knocking his head back against the headboard. There was a breathless laugh shared between them. Crowley leaned his forearms on Aziraphale’s shoulders as the angel began to see about ridding Crowley of his trousers.

“You were saying, Aziraphale? About your virtuous sense of patience?” Crowley teased, laughing rambunctiously.

Aziraphale dipped his hand into the front of Crowley’s trousers, squeezing him. Crowley just turned his laughter into Aziraphale’s shoulder. There was a snap of Crowley’s fingers, and his clothes vanished from the waist down. His bare knees pressed closer into Aziraphale’s hips, pushing into his hands. Aziraphale’s hand fitted around him like he was made for it, giving him simple strokes until Crowley’s laughter had vanished and was replaced with quieter, breathier sounds.

“Sometimes there are more important things,” he dismissed blithely, grinning the whole way.

Crowley’s reply was but a mutter against Aziraphale’s skin ending in little more than a brush of teeth and the beginnings of a mark sucked into his skin. His hand buried itself into Aziraphale’s hair, acting as an anchor, more for Crowley’s sake than the angel’s. His opposite hand reached down behind him, and he let loose a shaky breath that bled into a satisfied hum.

Aziraphale placed a steadying hand on the small of Crowley’s back, holding him still as Crowley panted into his ear.

“Aziraphale,” he gasped.

It tumbled, somewhat quickly, after that.

Crowley’s next snap of his fingers was wet, and it left Aziraphale bare. His sticky fingers dug into Aziraphale’s arm as he lifted himself up on shaky knees.

Praise fell off Aziraphale’s tongue as if it were gold to adorn Crowley’s neck. He pressed kisses into his skin like a holy invocation. He saw how Crowley’s eyes swam, felt his body tremble against him.

Every time Aziraphale thought Crowley would float away up out of his body, this earthly form, he would pull him back down with strong, attentive fingers.

By the time Crowley’s back was arching with curses and pleas falling from his lips, he was already well spent. He kissed Aziraphale forcefully, nails digging into his angel’s back and fingers knotted tight in his hair. Pulling, scratching, caught just on the edge of Being. He could barely force breath back into his lungs, but when he did, it was carried on Aziraphale’s name, tears slipping down his cheeks.

“Crowley, _oh_ , _Crowley, my dear_ — “ Aziraphale came with a little noise huffed into Crowley’s ear.

He held Crowley close, resting their temples together as they caught their breath.

Aziraphale eased Crowley up off of him before snapping the mess away with a miracle. Crowley slid down the bed with a serpent-like grace, and Aziraphale followed — albeit, less gracefully — until they lay together, comfortable and still.

It was a long moment before either of them spoke. Aziraphale didn’t count the minutes, rather basked in the feeling of blissful content, and love for his Other.

Eventually, Crowley did stir. His thumb swiped idly at Aziraphale’s arm, and he grinned against his shoulder. “Mm, I love it when you get distracted from your reading. It always goes very well for me.”

Aziraphale smiled at the ceiling, his eyes tracing the patterns in the plaster with little care for anything else. He figured he should drag a blanket over them both, but Crowley was warm enough for the two of them right now, so he let it lie. He traced idle patterns into Crowley’s side, drawing Psalms into his ribs.

“I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine,” Crowley murmured the written psalm aloud. His breath was even, but Aziraphale could feel Crowley’s fingers twisting into the bedsheets beside his shoulder, holding fast as he became very still.

Slowly, he released his grip and took Aziraphale’s face in gentle hands. He kissed him, softly, reverently. His touch was as delicate and sweet as spun sugar.

“My beloved is mine, and I am his,” Aziraphale whispered between them, eyes hazy and distant. 

The words sung in the air as a vow, the meaning as tangible as the feeling of holding and being held.

  


**Author's Note:**

> I promise... I swear to you that I've got more than just porn in the ol' writing oven. It's just... stuff with plot takes so much more time to finish _h a h_
> 
> title, “Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth, for thy love is more delightful than wine.” is from the first song of solomon. "I am my beloved's, and my beloved is mine,"/"My beloved is mine, and I am his," are also from song of solomon. anyway, hope you liked this!
> 
> hit me up on tumblr or discord, im always up to talk about these lovelies.  
> [tumblr](https://littlemumman.tumblr.com/)


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